My Only Companion
by thecrazyfanficcer
Summary: Marie is an outcast, caught in a drab, concrete world where music and colour don't exist. So, she escapes, taking her newchild Cecelia along with her... [pathetic old stuff]
1. Escape!

Fanficcing, indeed... All rights belong to Lois Lowry and not me. :-)

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My Only Companion

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Marie made sounds from deep in her throat as she fed Cecelia. The little One giggled at the funny noise, pointing one pudgy finger at her mother. Marie grinned back and patted her child on her thick curls, swinging Cecelia in her arms.

Marie was a Birthmother. She'd wanted to be one all her life, from the time she'd been a tiny Six learning her first letters. Then, finally, she'd gotten the job, exactly fifteen years ago from this very day. The Committee of Elders had chosen Marie's job as a Birthmother because, according to them, she was a nice person; she tended to be lazy at times. Personally speaking, Marie had never agreed with them, but she'd always respected their opinion.

Peace had reigned for Marie until that dreadful day two years ago, when the Committee of Elders had sent a woman to snatch her first child away. She had been devastated - even though she had called her little newchild Jeffrey, the Committee had renamed him Fenton. Ugh. Fenton. Such an ugly name. Marie shivered even at the thought. The Council had given Jeffrey to a new family, and in their eyes, that had been that.

So, here she was, second newchild into the business, but she knew that after her third child, the dream would be shattered. Then she would have to be a Labourer until she went to the House of the Old, bruised, battered, and thoroughly unsatisfied with her life.

Marie sincerely hoped that the Committee would let her keep Cecelia, but she knew that was impossible. So, even as she hugged her darling little One, Marie was planning. Her brain was working rapidly, skimming through ten possible options ever five minutes, trying to think up ways to rescue Cecelia and convince the members of the Community to give birth to their own children. She felt as if she was in a maze, with a hundred different possibilities to choose, but only one way out. She would not stop. Marie had Cecelia and many other babies to save. It did not help that she had also been snatched from her real parents as a newchild.

Marie bent down to the crib she had been supplied with when she'd given birth to Jeffrey and carefully tucked Cecelia in, smoothing the female One's wild and springy hair back behind her ears. The miniscule eyes fluttered, and then closed as she soundly fell asleep.

Marie stood up and sighed. Birthmothers weren't allowed to bring their newchildren home, but she knew that if she had to reenact her plan, it was the only way. Marie stared regretfully at the sleeping child before turning tail and exiting the Birthing Annex. She would do it tomorrow. She didn't want to put the little Cecelia in danger.

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It was the next day. Marie had Cecelia bundled up in a pile of faded clothes she was carrying in her arms. The newchild had not stirred once as Marie made the careful transition from crib to bundle and was dozing peacefully, her head sticking up slightly from the pale cloth.

Marie grinned determinedly at her daughter, more to reassure herself than Cecelia as whipped around out of the Birthing Annex and out of the building entirely. She had waited until the last possible moment. I t was a risky business and she knew it -perfectly well. Marie was determined. She knew that the Community had undergone a great change before she was born, and she planned to find out what it was.

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Marie shifted Cecelia slightly in her arms, planting a kiss on the top of her daughter's forehead. She walked determinedly across the silent streets, watching the people that flitted like shadows to their friends and families. They were talking politely to each other, though Marie felt like an outcast in this world - she just didn't know why. But she did know that there was something missing in this world - in this cold, drab, gray world where even trees and plants had to bend unto the laws and rules of the Community and were given no choice to be free.

She made her way over to her house, up the stairs, and into the sleepingroom she shared with her spouse, Jaime. Marie carefully deposited the sleeping Cecelia into a basket she had set up on the nightstand, pulling the blanket up around her newchild's small figure. Cecelia woke up suddenly, her pale eyes flipping open and lighting up with pleasure. She sat up in the basket, holding up her hands.

Marie played clapping games with her daughter until she heard the familiar sounds of Jaime coming up the walkway that led to her house. Marie had been laughing until her skin had darkened and made her whole frame glow with a radiant inner light. As soon as the sound of Jaime's shoes came plodding up the asphalt walkway, she hid Cecelia, allowing only her nose and eyes to stick out from underneath the fabric.

"Marie." Jaime was getting closer, she could tell. Hurriedly, Marie pressed herself against the basket, so that it looked like she was leaning casually against the nightstand.

"Marie - they've found out where Cecelia has gone. The Council of Elders has found out your secret."

She stared at her spouse, her jaw dropping open in shock. Jaime was tall, almost six feet in reality, with wavy pale hair and big dark eyes. His words echoed numbly in her mind. _The Council of Elders has found your secret._ She did the only possible thing - she turned, grabbed Cecelia, and ran.

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Marie ran as fast as she could out of the house, her long hair whipping and snapping, thanks to the momentum issued by her flailing feet. She was pounding the ground with all her might, her shoes carrying off the pavement and away from the Community. Marie was holding Cecelia tightly in her hands, enough so that the small, light bundle was invisible from behind. Her hair streamed behind her like a thick, glossy banner as she ran away from the life she had known, the life where she'd felt an outcast, the life before. It was the end of one world, and the beginning of another.

"You're my only companion," Marie whispered to Cecelia as her feet thrashed the asphalt. She hugged her newchild tight.

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Marie's feet carried her as fast as she could go over the drab gray pavement, until she stumbled over her leg and tripped on the pavement. She was a crumpled figure on the asphalt, the shell of a person, to be retrieved and brought back by the Council of Elders. They would release her, she knew it. Then she would go to Elsewhere; she hoped it was peaceful there, with no more evil societies to steal her newchildren from her. Marie hoped on, unbeknownst to the fact that the blackness was clouding her vision as she crumpled to the pavement, her body battered, her mission failed. Just one second on the verge of unconsciousness, she noticed something. It was colour.

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Marie's blue eyes opened slowly. She sat up in the nice, soft bed, taking her time to drink in her surroundings. She was in somebody's sleepingroom, but this one was different. Instead of the plain furniture that had decorated the rooms of the Community, this furniture was more vibrant, more alive. Marie turned her head slowly. There was a thick stone tunnel carved into the wall that curved upward, the entrance coated with thick black soot. In it, a forbidden fire was blazing and roaring, warm and friendly compared to the drab existence she had known. She perceived the word _fireplace_- but where had it come from? Her head was pounding - she felt like she had a horrible headache.

The door swung open, and Marie watched in petrified amazement as an old, shambling figure entered the small room. He shuffled along and sat down opposite her. As she studied the old man's features; the white beard that obscured the lower half of his face, the wise blue eyes radiating warmth and kindness, the wrinkles etched into his face as if by a sculptor with painstaking accuracy, Marie noticed something. She now had a new ability, a power to see things in different shades than black and gray. It was - she perceived another word - colour.

"I see you have come," the old man said with a smile. "Just as I expected."

"What happened?" Marie asked, running a hand through her hair -which, she noticed now, was russet-red, the colour of apples in autumn - "Where's Cecelia?"

The old man explained. "She is sleeping in the other room," he said, gesturing vaguely with his thick, blue-veined hand. "I know who you are, Marie," he continued gently, reaching out a hand to place it on her shoulder. "Do you?"

She shook her head slowly. "I don't know who my real parents are, if that's what you mean."

"Your father is Jonas, the last Receiver of Memory in over twenty years," the man said. "He was my pupil, and I his mentor."

"Jonas?" The name sounded familiar to her, as if she had heard it before - but she hadn't, of course. And yet...

"He escaped the Community to make the world a better place, to make things as they once were." He rubbed her shoulder warmly. "He was your father, Marie. Think about and choose how you want to live: in a half-life without colour, smell, or music-or on a mission to help them discover the true meaning of life."

Marie smiled, thinking of Cecelia. "I now know my true identity," she said, bravely. "I will rebuild a new life for the Community. I am going to save the world."

3


	2. A New Life

"Now you must go back to the Community, but you must go into hiding," continued the old man, running a hand through his white hair as his aqua-blue eyes flew to the ceiling. "I would advise you to stay with your friend Isabel for the present."

Marie paused, undecided, biting her lip as she snuck a glance past the old man. "H-How did you know about Isabel?" she asked slowly, bringing her gaze up to the old man's.

He smiled. "I know more than you would suspect for one so old," he replied mysteriously. Then he grew serious again. "You will try to bring news of the world outside to the residents of the Community. You will return in a few months."  
"How?" Marie asked, troubled. "How will I get here?"

The old man smiled again, fleetingly. "You will know when you are ready. I will keep Cecelia with me for now; the time is ripe to leave. Go, and help your fellow citizens seek a better life."

Marie rose on trembling legs, clasping her hands with a dutiful bow. "I will go now, er-"

His expression grave but his tone gentle, he replied, "You will know me as The Giver."

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Oddly enough, Marie found a silver bicycle when she exited the house the Giver lived in – a small black three-storey-high dwelling that was invisible from the Community. _Three stories?_ she thought, shocked and amazed. Where she came from, every house looked exactly the same and was exactly two stories high. It was different, but in a good way.

Marie chewed her lip as she retrieved a note that had been tied to the bike's handle bar. She had had one when she was a Nine, but she had outgrown it long before she had become a Birthmother in-training. The sight of the new bike, even though it was sleek and shining instead of old and slightly dirty, as it had been with her old one, made her smile. It brought back memories – none the least of which had been being reprimanded by her elder brother, John, when she had returned home with the bike's wheels mud-caked and its seat grass-stained.

After reading the note, Marie put it in her pocket. An old talent returned to her then as she carefully put one foot into the bike's right pedal and swung herself onto the leather seat before adjusting her position so that she was facing the west. She wheeled the bike north, in the direction she thought she had come – no, it was more like some instinctive yet wise impulse that just knew what to do.

Marie pedaled off into the direction of the Community, the Giver's directions rolling in her head all the while. She sped off smoothly for the horizon, where dawn was breaking. In a jolt, Marie suddenly realized how much more beautiful the world was, thanks to colour. Cream-coloured clouds edged the sunrise, which blazed orange among the beigish-brown. It was an amazing, stupendous, terrific sight, and Marie smiled, content as she gazed out at the orange flash that marked sunup.

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Before long, the front wheel had touched the northernmost horizon; Marie planned things carefully in her head. It was no longer that rapid skimming through options of a young woman trying to save her baby, but rather the smooth planning of escape, hope, joy, love, and freedom. After all, as she had found, growing up among the community's drab gray buildings, love did not exist. She knew the word, of course, but back there it was always respect, honour, appreciation, but no actual love. The thought made her sad, even though she had no idea where it had come from.

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Marie's blue eyes imploringly met Isabel's chocolate ones. Her fellow Birthmother cocked her head to the side, a smile on her face and a gleam in her eyes. There was nothing the Committee of Elders could do to stop the flow of human nature, and they both knew it.

"I know what you're going to say," Isabel began when Marie opened her mouth. "Jaime told me."  
The other woman couldn't help but smile, but her voice was tinged with sadness. "If the Committee of Elders comes to your house, I'll have to escape again," she added, her shoulders sagging slightly. "But I'll do whatever it takes to save us all from a… Well, I can't tell you that just yet," she finished apologetically. "You'll find out eventually."

Isabel tossed her a daring, roguish grin. "No problem. You can stay with me and Will for now," she declared, putting one hand on Marie's shoulder and guiding her into the adjoined sleepingrooms down the hallways.

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Isabel winked at her spouse as she closed the door after Marie's sleeping figure. It was a few hours later and the two of them had managed to create a plan of escape and freedom. They would start by trying to inform the residents of the Community of the life outside, then convince them to flock to a new life, full of hope, love, and joy.

Will smiled and stroked little Jesse's wavy curls. The chubby Five heaved a sigh in his sleep, though they could both tell from the expression on his face that he was content. Will turned back to Isabel again, who sunk herself into a chair across from him.

"I think this will work," Isabel confidently told Will behind closed eyelids. She was more talking to herself than to him. "Marie has a lot of courage in herself and in the Community, and we've both got a lot of imagination. I know it – what's possible is possible, and nothing you can say goes against that."

"True," Will agreed shrewdly. "Very true. But I sure hope everyone else will go along with this."

Isabel snapped out of her trance just to peer at him. "Nope, I'm sure," she grinned, then leaned back into the chair as her eyes slowly closed. "After all, who doesn't want freedom?"

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	3. We're on the Road Again

**Hi, everyone! Thanks to Amythcrystal, SciFiGirl13, ZiaA, Fanofthemoon88, Ri-kun and ShalynStone for being my first reviewers EVER! Also, I once read a Giver story where the Council of Elders were after Jonas and Fiona. The plot isn't taken from that story, but the antagonistic Committee of Elders was taken from there… :-(**

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Marie awoke sometime around seven o'clock the next day, blearily rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she caught a glimpse of Will, tall and serene. Isabel's spouse was clearing up the contents of his briefcase as he prepared for the coming day. A jumble of fresh sheets and new black pens clattered over the front of the desk, but Will scooped his things up and organised them with the greatest of ease. The Instructor of the Tens looked up as she approached.

"Hi, Marie." He greeted her with a warm smile.

She smiled back. " 'Morning, Will."

Isabel's husband watched in growing amazement as, her pale eyes glowing, Marie appeared to brighten and drink her surroundings in. She was an alive, changed person – and in the Community, you could be as strong-willed and creative as her and not even know it.

"Listen, I have to go to work now," Will told Marie, who nodded. "Isabel should be going in about half an hour. If you need help, just ask her." He departed then, armed with his briefcase and a fresh black pen in hand.

As soon as the other had left, Marie hesitated. She watched as the red-and-blond-haired man disappeared into the distance, and a new revelation came to her. The world seemed suddenly paler, more washed out. It was as if she were losing her power to see colour, to change the world.

In truth, the thought frightened her and she was rather pleased when her stomach rumbled, loudly and imploringly. She was struck by the idea of food and padded over to Isabel's freezer-box, a small refrigerated periwinkle cooler installed above the counter. Eagerly, she dug through the contents. Marie sifted past some frozen yellow string beans and found a packet of fresh orange carrots, which she then proceeded to snap open. In the space of a few seconds, Marie was snacking hungrily.

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Isabel tried not to laugh.

The young Birthmother was frozen in mid-step on the stairwell, watching in flabbergasted shock as her childhood pale-eyed friend devoured a whole packet of orange carrots before proceeding to rob another of its contents. The thought was indeed a funny one, and Isabel had to stifle her hand against her mouth to avoid an outburst of giggling. Marie, however, hadn't noticed and was quite content as she finished the other packet, which she then threw into a portable garbage dispenser. She rubbed her hands together before rinsing them lightly under the cool faucet.

Isabel sought out the chance to make her mark. Slowly, ever so carefully, she descended down the stairwell, just until she was in front of the long-haired figure of her childhood friend. Isabel had an absence of wisdom big enough to giggle none-too-softly.

"Why - you!"

Owing to the laws of the Community, Marie didn't lunge for Isabel. She did, however, roll her eyes and sigh, mockingly. "Isa, Isa, Isa," she chastised reproachfully – and fakingly. "How annoying can you get?"

"Very annoying," the pale-haired woman replied with a dazzling, unGiver-ish grin.

The women grinned to each other as they began their day. Marie dispersed for "morning ablutions," while Isabel prepared breakfast.

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"So, what are you going to do?" Isabel asked as the two women left the house, tiny Jesse in her arms and worry in her eyes. Marie had tied her hair up and styled it behind her head, as to offer some temporary disguise. "You can't stay like that for long."

Marie smiled back. "I was thinking maybe I could hide in the shelter of the Birthmothers' building and maybe convince some of the others onto our side." She reached up and brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"Don't do that," Isabel reprimanded lightly, "You need something to cover your face with, and that load of hair is perfect."

"Anyway, I was thinking of convincing Wilma; she's the eldest of us all," continued Marie as the plain one-storey building came into sight, completely ignoring her friend. "That's my idea." Out here, in bright daytime, her plan seemed…well, it seemed pathetic, though she didn't want to think like that.

"It's a start. Just make sure you're not discovered," Isabel said teasingly as the two of them split ways. She had to go give Trent to the Keeper of the Fives at the Childcare Center for the day before setting off for the Birthing Annex. Meanwhile, Marie would sneak into the building and try to persuade Wilma to join their side.

As she stared after the receding figure of her pale-haired friend, Marie noticed again that she looked more faded, more washed out. Quickly, she pivoted on her heel; a few rapid scans around the Birthmothers' building led her to realise that everything was like that. The discolouration extended from the Rehabilitation Center on the right to the cluster of dwellings on the left. It hadn't improved or worsened from the night before, thankfully.

She supposed it had something to do with the passage of time, the night at Isabel's house. Marie desperately hoped that she didn't lose her sense of colour. It was such a wonderful thing; someday, near in the future, she would reveal it to the world.

As she walked, Marie thought about Jonas and whoever her mother was. She wondered if Jonas had the same power she did; the power to see colour. The Giver had said Jonas had been Receiver of Memory, but he hadn't specified about anything, really.

Then Marie wondered about her mother: who she was, where she was now, and if she was all right or not. The thoughts scared Marie, since she, like everyone else in the Community had never gotten to know them. It was a sad, sickening thought.

Marie's thoughts landed on Jaime. She wondered if he was in trouble with the Council of Elders. She sincerely hoped not; it was her fault. If Jaime was in an unstable position, Marie would do anything to get him out. It was her fault, and she didn't want him to be released. She didn't know actually what it meant to be released, but she was sure it was bad.

"I'll make it so that everyone can know who their real parents are, and can enjoy colour as I do. I am going to save the world." Marie glanced up at the pale, washed-out blue sky. "And nothing can stop me now, for this is the true purpose in my life."

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	4. Recruiting Rescuers

**A/N: Hi, these are just some reviewer replies.**

**Amythcrystal: Thanks:-) As for her father, you won't find that out just yet. It's an OC, though, not Fiona.**

**SciFiGirl13: Thanks for the review! Glad you liked it!**

**Carsonsheir: Sadly, I can't reveal to you guys many details… However, she's from our world, not a Community. **

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"I remember the old Receiver, Jonas," Wilma murmured, swinging back and forth as if in a rocking chair. Vague thoughts and memories whirled around her in a torrent of soft sounds and illustrious images. "They said he came all the way to here from another Community."

"Another Community?" Marie asked nervously, her ears pricked and her blue eyes wide. "Why? Do you know?"

Wilma nodded slowly as her eyes reopened and the chair ceased rocking. "They said he had almost drowned, but I knew better."

Marie, curious, stared deeply into the ancient Birthmother's eyes. "What happened?" she asked, her voice hanging, a wisp of sound in the suddenly still air.

"He escaped," Wilma replied simply. "He escaped his old Community to come to ours. I don't know why; I do know, though, that he looked young. Couldn't have been a year older than a Twelve. He's survived hardships, though, that much I know."

"That's it?" the younger woman insisted, and so it was.

"Yes," Wilma affirmed with a nod. "That's all I know about him. Nothing more, nothing less. He was great, they say."

Marie nodded, lost in thought. She aimed her gaze down toward her hand, crumpled in a fist under her chin, as she pondered and evaluated the situation. How could she approach this? Clearly, Wilma was nice, but despite the ancient Birthmother's knowledge about her father didn't mean she would be willing to help.

"Do you know what Receivers do, Wilma?" Marie wondered quietly, hoping in her heart that this new tactic would work. "What happens behind the Annex's closed steel doors?"

She shook her head slowly. "No, Marie, now that you mention it, I don't. I never really thought about it – by now, Jonas is long gone."

"Well, I know." Wilma's dark eyes widened, enough so that her eyebrows receded behind a shock of pale hair. "I know, and I'll tell you why it's so important.

"See, the world used to be different before," Marie continued, her voice hushed. "There used to be colour, music, smell, snow, sunshine…" She didn't know where the words were coming from, but she perceived them with the greatest of ease. "And there's more… We take our away our own freedom."

At this, Wilma gasped aloud. "Release," she murmured, her dark eyes growing in shock. "They kill them, am I right?"

She nodded back.

"I heard that, but I never actually believed it," Wilma said, talking more to herself than to the other Birthmother. "I'm on your side, but what do we do?"

Marie hadn't thought about that. She looked up, surprised. "Next month, it'll be December. I'll cause a diversion and run for it. All you have to do is ask everyone you know if they want to come, and then we'll escape together." It was really a very simple plan, though even after she said it, she realised that she had to go see The Giver in a month.

Wilma nodded back. "I'll do that," she replied, a determined gleam in her eyes.

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The Community was in chaos.

It wasn't, of course, merely a figure of speech the residents whispered among themselves for the rest of the week. It was muttered at the midday meal, rumoured about at rituals, chattered about at the Childcare Center, and, within eight days, Marie knew her mission would succeed.

"One word about the meaning of release, and everyone's devastated," Jaime laughed lightheartedly to his spouse that night. He was visiting Marie at Isabel's house; he couldn't stay for long, or else the Food Collectors would start to get wary if he was missing from their house. "Mind, it is about the saddest thing that can happen," he added, his happiness disappearing as his expression grew sombre.

"No thanks to the Community," muttered the lady darkly of the household herself as she passed by. Her arms were filled with the fresh produce, recently given to her by the Agricultural Crew. "I really, really hope we can save everyone before it's too late."

Will looked up at Isabel from where he was playing with Jesse. The little Five had been happily hugging his comfort object, a small, gray "mouse," but now he looked up suddenly, as if he knew his mother was worrying. "Don't worry, love," Will continued, and patted her arm. "We'll get through."

"And to quote the words of my pale-haired best friend…" Marie grinned mischievously at the group of friends that surrounded her, one foot perched on a box of old clothing for disguise. "… 'Humans are eternally hopeful, _very_ annoying, and can take care of themselves, oddly enough.' Isn't that right, Isa?"

"True," Isabel concurred shrewdly, returning from the kitchen and beginning to stack more boxes of old clothes on the shelves. "Very true indeed."

"My spouse, the eternally sarcastic, annoying, and hopeful," Will commented with a laugh to Jaime, rising on his haunches as to slap him on the shoulder. The younger man grinned and pressed two fingers to his temple.

"I can see now that our two ladies are weaving their enchanting spell over us," Jaime replied, raising one eyebrow as Marie proceeded to drag a cartful of more old clothes down the hallway. It wasn't working.

Jesse seemed to be thinking for a moment. His head completely obscured by his thick hair, the young child's thoughts were on a roll. He eventually brought his gaze upward, his eyes darting from side to side, and joined in the fun by dutifully wrapping a frayed yellow scarf around his neck. The four adults watched in amazement as he twisted and twirled – if anyone aside from Marie could be Receiver of Memory, they suddenly decided it was him.

Everyone froze, though, when a tolling knell of death rang down the hallway.

The doorbell.

"I'll go get it," Marie said quickly, abandoning the delivery cart where it lay and rushing over to the door. She was on edge, and not without reason: who could it be who had so suddenly turned up at her friend's door at this time at night?

She curbed suddenly, her bare feet skidding on Isabel's polished tiles as she remembered to fling on the hood that was sewed onto the back of her tunic by Mario, who, oddly enough, had turned out to be good at that sort of thing. In a few seconds, her face was cast in dark shadow.

"Yes?" Marie asked in a rasping, guttural voice as she opened the door. The oiled hinges clicked slightly as she pushed it forward as to let the stranger in. "Who is it?"

"It's Wilma," replied the voice, and Marie looked up in shock and delight, enough so that the dark cape fell back from her face with a flapping sound.

"Wilma?" Her voice nearly choking in her happiness, Marie threw the door open completely. "I'm astounded you came!"

The ancient Birthmother was, however, chewing her lip as she cast nervous glances around Isabel's pleasant, airy hallway. "There's something I have to tell you."

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**Woot, cliffie! So how did you like that for Chapter 4? More to come!**


	5. Truth, Lies, Deception

"What is it?" Marie asked the older woman, her voice barely a whisper on the suddenly tense and still air. "Have we been discovered?"

Wilma shook her head slowly. "Not yet," she replied, though she was nervously chewing her lower lip. "But that's not to say the Elders aren't getting suspicious. The Food Collectors have noticed how Jaime isn't at his house right now; it's almost past curfew."

At this point, Jaime himself, who had been listening with rapt attention, grew embarrassed. He withdrew slightly, carefully removing Trent from where the Five had been snoring gently on his lap, before standing up to his full height.

"I suppose I'd better get going," Jaime mumbled, ashamed, as he adjusted his tunic slightly on his shoulders. "I have to put up some sort of front."

Marie began to rise on her own wobbly legs. "If the Food Collectors are going to peer into our house, I might as well be there, too," she explained hastily as she arose. "We can go without arousing suspicion, though."

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The_ sun_, as she perceived, was shining the next morning, its light streaming onto Marie's russet-red hair as she bicycled her way over to The Giver's dwelling behind the Community. She was going toward the south, on the same pathway she had used previously when journeying to Isabel's house. The familiar drab concrete and asphalt of the Community disappeared smoothly into the sunset as she biked away, fading first to a stretch of soft cement before receding entirely. After that came green grass and small plants with purple buds, rolling effortlessly on to reveal a few tall sticklike growths with drooping branches and abandoned buckets pegged into their barks. _Trees,_ Marie perceived out of the blue, _thistles, weeds._

There were many other varieties of tall sticklike growths (trees, Marie realised), too, or so Marie noticed as she gazed all around her surroundings. Short white-barked trees vied along the pathway with spreading, leafy trees with unusually-shaped leaves. She quickly turned around as to glimpse one of the tall trees with a bucket hooked into its bark. _I wonder what those buckets are for,_ Marie thought, scrutinising the silver metal. She braked the bike and made her way over to the tree, absently rubbing its bark with the palm of her right hand. Carefully, she unhooked the top of the bucket from where it had been pegged into the tree's bark; it was pretty heavy when she chanced to remove it. Marie pulled open the cap that concealed the top of the bucket and peered at its contents – oddly enough, the metallic depths were completely filled in a small, slick coat of pale, yellowish liquid. She replaced the bucket and frowned, her nose wrinkled as she thought about it.

_Maples, oaks, birches, willows. _They must have been different kinds of trees. Looking around, Marie tried to discern which was which, but to no avail. Still slightly confused, she remounted her silvery bicycle and resumed her journey.

_Why haven't I noticed all this plant life before?_ Marie found herself thinking as she neared The Giver's small, cosy dwelling among the seemingly neverending spread of grass. She tried to figure out a solution to her problem, but when none came, she shrugged it off and continued onward.

In a little, the square white dwelling had risen up above her. Marie dismounted the bike and carefully pushed it into the steel port beside the dwelling's pleasant custard-coloured brick wall. She stepped through the open door, hoping this was the right place as she did so. Sure enough, a quick glance around the piece told her she was indeed inside The Giver's house.

"Hello, Marie," came a voice from the shadows.

It was The Giver, without a shadow of a doubt. A smile flickered around Marie's lips as she followed him into the room where they had been sitting previously, the one with the fireplace. Right now, as it was daytime, the fire had been extinguished and the tunnel-like entrance dusted over with a smattering of soot.

But, lo and behold, a surprise assaulted Marie when she entered the room – Cecelia! The newchild was asleep at the moment, lying comfortably in a small wooden apparatus The Giver had set up beside the bed where Marie had awoken previously. She blinked as she gazed upon the crib; two smooth pieces of wood were located near the bottom. The result: Cecelia was rocking smoothly back and forth as she dozed.

R_ockers, warmth, love, peace…_ This barrage of new words flew at Marie as soon as she set foot in the room. It was odd; she could tell that the slivers of wood under the crib were rockers, but what about the others? Warmth, love, peace… They sounded more like good things – no, good qualities in people – than material things. Then, suddenly, she knew. She was jolted by a force of sudden, amazing reconnaissance. This was warmth! This was love! This was peace! The words had always lain there in the back of her head, with little impact on the way she thought or felt. But now, Marie realised, they were the feelings she could feel welling through her conscious self now.

She went over to Cecelia and smoothed one hand over her yellowish curls, matted against the pillows in her sleep. The Giver followed, the smile curling around his mouth crinkling the skin around his eyebrows. Marie looked up as he approached before looking back down at her tiny One and murmuring smooth sounds to her.

"What happened to my father, Jonas?" she asked him without looking up. Cecelia turned slightly in her sleep; Marie traced a curving pattern the newchild's shoulder with one finger before slowly raising her head as to look into The Giver's caring aqua-blue eyes. "Why don't we have his memories any more?" She knew the role of the Receiver of Memory; everyone did. It was odd to think, though, how Jonas could have had so many memories given to him by The Giver – he must've; how else would she be perceiving all these new words?

The Giver sighed deeply as he shuffled over to a red-felt armchair which had been positioned near the back of the room, a golden-knobbed wooden walking cane in hand. Last time, Marie hadn't noticed where he'd been sitting; now, watching as he carefully settled into the chair and propped his cane up next to the armrest. He inhaled slowly, expelling the air only when he was ready. Slowly, his hands folded on his lap, The Giver raised his head to look at Marie.

"He lived in another Community," he replied quietly. "His fellow residents learned the pain of its past, present, and future, and now lie…" He gestured vaguely, indicating everything that wasn't part of this Community or a neighbouring one, aka, Elsewhere. "They have long since reformed. But what's important, Marie," he began, his eyes closed and his expression unusually sombre, "is your past."

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**Seriously, I've got to stop it with the cliffhangers. Scream if you like cliffies! Wooooooot! Anyway, you like? Any suggestions, ideas, criticism, praise,flames? Yes, I will accept flames, if you must know. (pouts) Well, whatever. See ya next time! **


	6. An Old Friend

"My past?" Marie whispered, leaning closer in spite of herself. "You mean my mother?"

"Your mother," The Giver confirmed with a nod, "is Arianna."

"Arianna," Marie mused thoughtfully. She was but one of the ageing Old in the Community; a peaceful person who had long since ceased to work and joined the ranks of the Childless Adults. Years ago, it was rumoured that she had applied for release; Marie had disbelieved every word of it. As a child, Arianna had been, for Marie, like a second mother: kind, loving, caring; just plain wonderful…

And now she knew why.

It explained everything, when you thought about it. Arianna, who had neither applied for a spouse nor children, had been a Childless Adult about five years after Marie had been given the job of Birthmother. It was hard to determine age in the Community; owing to the fact that, as The Giver had told her, everyone had pretty much the same basic flesh tones. Though, by reasoning it out, Marie realised Arianna really was her true mother.

"Thank you, Giver," Marie whispered, twenty minutes later as she, perched comfortably on the seat of her silver bicycle, sped smoothly over to the group of dwellings and buildings that made the Community. She wasn't looking at the trees this time, nor the plant life; she had to confront Arianna and then continue raising her army.

"Whoops!"

"It's all right," Marie replied, not worried, as the bicycle went careening into the river and her knees gave way from under her. The figure seemed to be genially sorry – she figured it really had been an accident.

"I'm so sorry!" the woman exclaimed as she helped Marie on her feet. "I was just hurrying and–" She stopped in midsentence as she realised who she was talking to. "Oh!"

"What – Oh, Kara!"

And then the two women were wrapped in an embrace of love and remembrance. Kara was her childhood friend – along with Isabel and herself, they made the Troublesome Trio, a group of three female Fives who always wound themselves up in a web of mischief. Though those days had long since gone - Kara had been given the job of Engineer, she informed Marie has their tales unravelled. Looking back on it now, Marie realised the three of them had never really changed from their younger days; Isabel had always been the most playful and teasing of the three, she the most determined, and Kara… Well, uh, Kara was a little clumsy; it made you wonder how she'd ever landed herself as an Engineer.

When the long-lost friends had finally broken apart, Marie chanced to wonder aloud why she'd never caught glimpses of Kara in and out of the Community's silent streets. "Where have you been all these years?" she asked the orange-haired woman – colour was a wonderful gift, she thought, amazed. It was astounding to know someone since childhood and not even know the true colour of their hair, or what colour was, for that matter. "I would have expected to see you more than once by now."

"Yes, well…" Kara paused, as if relishing the answer she would give Marie, who had unconsciously tensed with impatience. "I…I work in another Community."

Marie blinked, but it wasn't long before her features formed themselves into an expression of happily exclamatory shock as realisation dawned in. "Oh! You bring new technologies to and fro, right?"

Kara nodded vigorously. "I come maybe once a month or so. This time, I was delivering this produce harvester prototype." She bent down, her wrist brushing the perfectly manicured grass planted around their Community's winding river as she reached for a small metallic machine, encased in a glass cube. A thick copper hook was at one end; Kara pressed a button on this hook and instantly it began to lever itself up and down, as if reaching for the harvest. When it reached into the air and grabbed nothing, the machine's wheels ceased to turn, its cogs and gears halted their rapid-fire rolling and it fell silent as it clicked itself off. The Engineer carefully set the machine into a small satchel wrapped around the side of her tunic.

"See?" Kara laughed as the machine disappeared into the folds of worn brown fabric. "It's clever!"

And so, laughing, she joined Marie in her quest to find Arianna, her true mother.

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The visit to the House of the Old had been, to say the least, fruitful. The older woman had, without hesitation or them even asking her, told them the downright truth: she was Marie's mother. She knew lots of things about the Receiver, her spouse:

"Well, he went to another Community now, of course, to save them, too," Arianna knowledgeably filled them in about an hour after they had arrived. "Since all his memories were given away when he left the Community he'd grown up in, he knew that you, Marie, would grow and develop them – which you have."

"So _that'_s where they've been coming from," Marie sighed, almost happily. "I was wondering how it worked."

She nodded in return. "Right, which is why you're not exactly a Receiver of Memory. Jonas went off because he knew you would redeem us all."

At this point, Kara leaned back into her chair with a relaxed sigh. "Great. Everyone's happy. Now, let's get that army!"

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Marie sighed as she trudged all the way to Jaime's house, her legs leaden and her footsteps heavy. She'd been staying with him for a few nights since she'd escaped with Cecelia; luckily, the Food Collectors only arrived once after the evening meal and once after curfew, to make sure everyone was sleeping. The curfew had been passed some hours ago; she would not be disturbed, and thus, was on her way back to her old house.

Kara was with her own spouse, Nate, when Marie finally set foot in front of the house. Nate, as his wife was away in the other Community for most of the year, lived on his own, with their young male Two. Nate, whose hair was the colour of hazelnuts and whose eyes were like mahogany, as she had noticed, turned to her now.

"Marie," Nate began, his eyes in rapid motion, left to right, up to down, never stopping, "I haven't got much of a plan; I'm going to quit for the night, but we'll keep helping you until the Ceremony."

Marie, a hollow and somewhat vacant expression in her blue eyes, nodded. "Good night, then."

"G'night." Kara returned the formality before whirling to the direction of Nate's dwelling. "I just have to get our Two. I'll be gone when you wake up tomorrow, which'll have to be pretty early." Nate and Marie watched in anticipation as she fiddled with the lock – nearly tripping over herself in the process – and stepped through the doorway. "Fenton!"

Nate felt Marie recoiling beside him. When he chanced to sneak a glance toward her, he noticed her light eyes had gone wide and her face had blanched, giving her a pale, almost ghostly expression. "What is it?" he whispered to her, but she appeared too shocked to answer.

It wasn't long before Kara returned, an adorable little male Two perched in her arms. "Marie?" She set Fenton down and shook her friend gently by the shoulder, all traces of clumsiness gone for once, dissipated by fear. "Are you all right?"

"Jeffrey…" Marie was still her haze, but she was conscious enough to reach down for Fenton. The young male looked quizzically up at her for a second, then, with a screech of "Mama!" rushed forward and wrapped his hands around her knee.

"You're a Birthmother, right?" asked Nate, and the other woman nodded slowly. "That explains it!" he cried excitedly, turning to his spouse. "Marie must have given birth to Fenton and called him Jeffrey!"

The redheaded woman had, finally, broken out of her trance. "Before the Committee took him, that it!" she said fiercely, pulling Fenton's prising fingers off her leg and lowing herself onto the sidewalk as she explained. "I had him two years ago, before Cecelia; she's at The Giver's house now. After her, I'll be a Labourer until I join the House of the Old!"

Fenton sensed his true mother's pain and stroked her arm, before tenderly encircling his real mother in a hug. Surprised, Marie turned to the little fellow and hugged him, making little sounds in her throat as she had done with Cecelia – it seemed like so long ago, now.

"I didn't realise!" Kara exclaimed, one hand on her mouth in astonishment. "I'm so sorry – do you want him back?"

"No, it's all right," Marie replied with a laugh, setting Fenton down on the pavement and rising from where she'd been sitting. "You keep him. He deserves you more."

The three of them clung onto each other as they watched the brave woman heading toward Jaime's house, right in front of them.


	7. Saving the World, One Step at a Time

**TCF: Hi, everybody!**

**Everybody: Hi, Fanficcer!**

**TCF: This is the last chappie! Enjoy it!**

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Marie sighed and shifted the tiny Cecelia in her arms. The little One squirmed in discomfort and Marie pressed the child to her bosom, murmuring soothing sounds. Cecelia ceased her wriggling and pressed closer to Marie, who planted another kiss on her curly locks before glancing upward, at the stage.

It was the Ceremony, about a month and a half later. Marie had been working hard with Jaime, Nate, Isabel, Will, Arianna, Kara - who had popped by the dwelling once or twice – and even Jesse and Fenton. They made a small but hardworking task force, doing anything they could to pull the wool from the eyes of the residents of the Community.

Sadly, their efforts since the meeting with Kara had been all for naught; whenever any of the nine of them stepped outside to rectify the world, the streets, normally so full and bustling, became desolate; now it was just drab concrete and cement that extended for miles and miles, so unobtrusive, so plain, so _void _of life and excitement that Marie felt even more like an outcast. Though it was rude, they had actually tried sneaking into others' dwellings as to find them; it was fruitless and, more importantly, ashamed them to no end.

The days had taken their toll.

At the moment, everyone was just waiting, watching listening. Not only the small contingent of welldoers, but also everyone else in the area – Ones through Twelves, Childless Adults, the Old, workers-in-training, spouses, Elders, everyone. It was on this day that Marie had planned for everything to go smoothly and all her efforts to pay off. Or so it would have been, had anyone else joined their cause.

Which they hadn't, of course.

Marie gave a dejected sigh and made sure that her figure was completely concealed by the door's shadow. She was hiding behind it, a portal to the outside world – which was as uneventful and normal as the inside – as she watched the Ceremony, which was just starting.

The Chief Elder appeared behind the dull red curtains and walked across the wood-panelled stage until he faced the crowd. (Note: Marie and her friends are living in a different Community from the one where Jonas grew up in. The Giver is hidden; almost no one knows about the old man who lives in the countryside. So, that's why there's a different Chief Elder from the actual book.) "Fellow citizens," he began, waving his hand to indicate a crowd of Nurturers that were standing behind him; each of their faces was curled in grins as they clutched tiny newchildren to their chests. Cecelia would have been with them that day, but, because of Marie's attempted escape, only a small amount of people knew she was actually crouching in the shadow cast by one of the oaken front doors.

"Fellow citizens, I bring you today the newchildren who were born in the past year. Today, they will be given to the family units who have applied for a child. I present to you child number one… The curious Cristobel, to be presented to the Childless Adult, Gabriel!"

A Nurturer emerged from the shadows, a tiny dark-haired girl in hand. Cristobel giggled and squirmed excitedly, her happy squeaklike voice bringing smiles on everyone's faces as she wriggled. A curly-haired man rose out of his place in the audience and almost bounded up the stage steps to receive his newchild, but he was not smiling. Rather, he looked indignant…_No, wrong word,_ Marie decided, just as her father had one November so long ago. He looked…defiant. Defiant, that was it. Maybe this man, this Gabriel, had seen them somewhat feebly trying to save the Community and bring them love, hope and joy…? Maybe he had others with him, others who were as willing to help as Jaime and all the others had been…? Maybe they weren't alone in their quest? Maybe they would be able to bring their Community to salvation!

Gabriel vaulted the last step with the greatest of ease and turned to face the Chief Elder, who caught the almost angry look on his face and backed up slightly. Cristobel, however, wiggled again and clapped her tiny, chubby hands excitedly, her blue eyes sparkling.

"Listen, sir, I don't mean to be rude, but…" He trailed off, paused, hesitated, and tried again. "My name is Gabe. Some residents of the Community have been trying to help us… You'll see how later. For now, I want you to listen to what these people have to say." His short speech finished, Gabe pivoted on his heel, his pudding-coloured curls whipping in the slight air, and called out to the crowd, "Come, Jaime, Jesse, Fenton, Nate, Isabel, Will! And yes, you too, Marie!"

One hand still clutching tightly onto her newchild's small body, Marie stared up at Gabe, amazed. As she walked down the aisle to save the Community and possibly the world, Marie had one thought on her mind: _Cecelia, you are my only companion no longer._ She smiled. Sometimes, things went exactly the way they should.

She, Marie, daughter of Jonas, Receiver of Memory, was going to help save the world.


End file.
